


On Love and Lust

by die_traumerei



Series: Bike Girls [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Body Image, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Fetish, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28571631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Aziraphale was having a perfectly good day with her girlfriend when Gabrielle had to text her out of nowhere. Things don't go wonderfully, but with some time and care and a lot of talking with Crowley, Aziraphale feels far better by the end of the day. (Also Crowley gets a birthday present early, when she gets to tell Gabrielle where to get off.)(Set after the very end of Crowley and the Perfect Picnic)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Bike Girls [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997386
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	On Love and Lust

**Author's Note:**

> HOO BOY okay there's some trigger warnings on this one. I'm going to kind of gloss them here, but please don't hesitate to drop me a message on tumblr (dietraumerei.tumblr.com) or over e-mail (die.traumerei.fandom at gmail) if you want more detailed content warnings.
> 
> \- warning for a panic attack that Aziraphale has, described from her POV  
> \- warning for vomiting.  
> \- warning for Aziraphale's body image issues. She mostly likes her body, but has a short bit of time where she's really self-punishing around food. Crowley is comforting but firm -- she deserves to eat and fuel her body. There's (very brief) direct discussion of calories and the importance of food and drink.  
> \- The entire back half of the story is a discussion of fetishes and how they relate to Aziraphale's body, and Crowley's love of fat women (and her different love of Aziraphale). It's a delicate, deeply loving conversation, but there is pretty point-blank talking about the sexualization of fat women.
> 
> Overall, the story is my usual, though -- soft, comforting, with a caring, loving relationship. Crowley is supportive and kind and knows what to do to help Aziraphale be her best self, and Aziraphale is actively working on being that best self. There's just some bumps along the way :)

Aziraphale hadn't quite checked out. Not exactly. The countryside was a bit too pretty for that, but she definitely wasn't, say, as chipper and energetic as when they'd set off. Not in a bad way, either – it had been fun joking with Crowley, the two of them easily cycling out of town on the sparsely-used roads. And she'd been just fine going past where she'd had her accident a few years ago. (And not only because that was the exact spot in the road where she'd met her beloved girlfriend.) She'd done that _plenty_ before.

They had set out for a long ride, nearly to the sea, and there had been gulls and a tang of salt in the air when they stopped for sandwiches about midday. They'd sat on a bench in a little park and shared out their sarnies and snickers bars and swapped water bottles to try a different rehydration flavour, and generally enjoyed themselves immensely. It had been a warm day, so even sweat drying had felt rather nice, instead of cold and clammy as it usually did.

And then it was time to head back, a looping route that sent them away from the tang of the sea and into gentle farmlands and rolling hills. None of them particularly hard, but taken as a whole, on already-tired legs, it was best that Aziraphale just put her head down, tune out anything distracting, and concentrate on keeping going. She wasn't miserable – far from it – but the ease of the first leg had turned to endurance, to just keeping her legs moving. To loving it – Aziraphale was  _proud_ of herself! – but there wasn't any thinking of anything else other than staying on Crowley's back wheel, and there, that was the last hill before home. And that was the edge of their village, and that was their road, and finally, legs aching and tired and ravenous, they cycled up the drive and stopped at Crowley's beautiful cottage, some hours after they'd left, chatty and expectant, from Aziraphale's flat.

“You did it!” Crowley hopped off before Aziraphale could do anything more than stand, and ran over to her, throwing her arms around Aziraphale. “I'm so, so proud of you,” she said punctuating the words with kisses. “That's the longest ride I've done all year, and your longest ride yet,” she gloated. “Love, I'm _so proud_ , that was really hard.”

Aziraphale laughed and hugged back, staggering a second before she got her balance. “I'm proud of us,” she agreed shyly, and rested her head on Crowleys shoulder a moment. “Shit, I have to get off the bike.”

Crowley laughed, and gave her something to lean on while she swung her leg up and over, and oof that did feel good to stretch in a new way.

“I'll stow our bikes away,” she said, but Aziraphale shook her head.

“No, we'll put them away together,” she said firmly. “I can keep up with you, darling. I want to help.”

Crowley tilted her head and kissed Aziraphale softly. “I love you so much.”

“You're just giddy and on a high,” Aziraphale teased her, but she darted her head and kissed back. “I love you too. C'mon, you need to stretch and we both need showers.”

“We _both_ need to stretch,” Crowley insisted. “You're carrying old injuries now too, darling.”

Aziraphale laughed and threw her arm around Crowley's shoulders as they wheeled their bikes into the little garage. “And we're both staring down a half-century of life, not sure which one's giving me more aches,” she teased.

They kissed again once their gear was stowed, and it was a quick matter to stretch out, ease tight muscles, and race one another to the shower.

Crowley won – sneaky lady; Aziraphale might match or exceed her endurance, but she was always faster. She passed the time by undressing and lolling naked and sweaty on the bed, idly window-shopping vibrators on her phone. She was debating getting one of the app-controlled ones. They didn't spend  _every_ night together, after all, and it might be nice to have something to tease Crowley with even when they were apart. Even better if it was one she could just shove down her girlfriend's knickers and make her wait all day until she was begging.

Aziraphale licked her lips and hit purchase.

“Oooh, treats,” Crowley teased when she came out of the shower in a light dressing-gown. She was gorgeous, of course, even with her quiff slicked-back from the shower. Her body was slim and soft and Aziraphale loved to lick and kiss it.

“Don't you dare cuddle up to me yet,” Aziraphale warned. “I'm all gross. You may have a kiss, then I want my shower.”

“What a cruel woman you are,” Crowley moaned, but she leaned over to give said kiss. “Don't get dressed after? We don't need to have sex, but I want to hold you naked.”

“I would love that,” Aziraphale said, and rubbed Crowley's hip. “I won't be long, beautiful.” She reached into the front of the dressing-gown, tweaked a sweet little nipple, and took herself off to rinse off the day and further pamper her aching muscles. 

Aziraphale soaped herself up, and touched herself – not like  _that_ , for one thing she was awfully tender there. But to remap her body. It had changed as she recovered from The Picnic Incident (as they always referred to it now), and changed more as she started to join Crowley for long rides more and more. She was still fat, of course; that seemed unlikely to ever change, and anyway she sort of liked how big and soft she was. There was a layer of muscle definitely forming, though, and she was getting used to what it looked like when she flexed her shoulders, or her quads. 

Aziraphale washed her hair and rinsed herself off one last time, savouring the hot water before she finally got out. She dried her hair with an old t-shirt and towelled herself off, but kept to her promise and was quite bare-assed, sashaying back into the bedroom and showing off a bit.

Crowley didn't disappoint with a wolf-whistle, lying on her side and patting the bed. She'd had the sense to get naked as well, and Aziraphale admired her – the long lines of her body, her slender legs, even her tiny little tummy, visible lying on her side.

She sat on the bed and leaned over for a kiss. “I'm getting buff because of you, madame.”

“I _know_ ,” Crowley leered, and then more seriously and more gently, “Are your legs all right?”

“Of course they are. I'm long past healed up,” Aziraphale scolded gently, lying down and stretching. “You feel all right?”

“Uh huh. Fine. Promise.” Crowley cupped one of Aziraphale's breasts, admiring how it spilled out over her hand. “Shit, I love your tits.”

“My God, the _romance_ of you, woman,” Aziraphale teased, and grunted when her phone buzzed underneath her. “Who on Earth is texting me?”

“Mmmph,” Crowley mumbled, and rolled over to mouth at the soft skin beneath Aziraphale's breast. “God, you taste amazing. Little bites okay?”

“Uh huh,” Aziraphale said, unlocking her phone, and smiling when she felt the gentlest bite of all time on the little roll of fat between her breasts and her belly. Crowley wanted _so_ badly to make her happy, but she was still hesitant to hurt – or, perhaps, to understand that the pain, safe and given with love, was what Aziraphale _wanted_. They were working on it; The Picnic Incident had set them back, but Aziraphale was confident she'd be gagged and tied down being absolutely _rawed_ by her girlfriend before the year was out.

“Big bites are good too,” she said absently. She checked her texts, and froze in place, seeing the name and the message.

“What's wrong?” Crowley asked, probably more aware than Aziraphale was about her body's reactions.

Aziraphale threw the phone down and sat up, shaking. “What the fuck.”

Crowley frowned and touched her phone. “May I?”

Aziraphale nodded, still trembling, and watched Crowley read the message from Gabrielle, her face hardening. “What the actual fuck,” she offered. “Do you want me to block her?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, jaw set. It had been  _years_ since they'd broken up. The last time she'd seen Gabrielle – more than a glimpse in a crowd, anyway – was just after she'd broken her wrist and hurt her neck, an absolute mess of a woman. 

A woman who was healing, she reminded herself. Not just the broken bone, but her heart, her mind. She had been in an abusive relationship, and she was  _still_ working with a therapist to deal with some of the lingering effects of it.

And now  _this_ fuckery?

**Gabrielle:** _Hey babe, what's up? Are you free tonight?_

**Aziraphale:** _ What? No. Why are you texting me? _

She sat not quite touching Crowley, but so Crowley could see the conversation. Aziraphale was absolutely bound and determined that it wasn't Crowley's job to protect her, or be responsible for Aziraphale's mental health, but this seemed okay to share. Her girlfriend was quiet and still, letting Aziraphale set the scene and the pace, and for a moment Aziraphale's heart literally ached, with how much she loved the gentle, prickly, foulmouthed, brilliant woman she'd found.

**Gabrielle:** _Oh, honestly, I was bored. Are you really busy tonight? I wouldn't mind a hookup?_

“Is she having a stroke?” Crowley asked. “Am _I_ having a stroke?”

“I am literally ashamed I ever found her appealing,” Aziraphale said. “ _This_ is her come-on line?”

**Aziraphale** :  _ I'm taken. I mean, I'm still with Crowley. And what is wrong with you, I wouldn't hook up with you anyway.  _

Crowley smiled. “I love you.”

“Well, I _wouldn't_ ,” Aziraphale grumbled. “Jesus Christ. We both wind up in hospital, not a peep. But a horny Saturday night literal _years_ after she dumps me? No one is that hot.”

**Gabrielle** :  _ Seriously? Wow. Well, I guess you're good fetish material if she's into fat birds. Ciao. _

Oh God _ damn _ . Aziraphale started to shake and couldn't stop, started to gasp for breath as she threw her phone off the bed, shaking and curling up. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Every nerve lit up, too far gone even to sob, hyperventilating now and shaking, shaking so hard she was going to fall apart and feeling her body wobble, feeling all her soft bits now, then – not. Far, far away from her body, until she felt the heavy blanket start to call her back. Heard Crowley's voice calling her name, soft and gentle. Calling her love.

Trembling. Moan. Listen for a rhythm counted for her. Breath  _ out _ . Pause. Breathe in. Pause. Find the pattern, listen to her love count. Listen to the words. Crowley barely touching her, because she couldn't consent to even the lightest caress. 

Breathe. Breathe so she got oxygen. The blanket was so heavy, she felt her body again. Was back in her body, her wobbly, imperfect, dimpled corporation. Breathed some more until she stopped shaking, mostly, feeling sick and exhausted.

“I'm here,” Crowley was telling her, voice low and soft and unafraid. Well, she'd seen a panic attack before. More than once. “I'm right here with you, you're not alone. You'll never, ever be alone if you don't want it. Easy. You had a panic attack. It's Saturday, we just got back from a long bike ride. You're in my house, in my bed. I grabbed your weighted blanket from the middle room, your room. I'm here, Aziraphale. You're safe. All the doors are locked and I'm right here. You're healthy and well, love. We have all weekend if we want. You can stay in bed for as long as you need.”

The words like water, soothing and washing her. Aziraphale opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. “I'll be right back,” she mumbled, and stumbled out of bed, running for the loo and being sick. There wasn't much in her belly to vomit up, but she tried her best, then rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth, and wrapped herself in her dressing-gown to go back to the bedroom and crawl straight back under the weighted blanket.

“Can you hold my hand?” she mumbled again, eyes closing against the spinning in the room. “Please?”

“For a little bit,” Crowley said softly, and took her hand. “You're going to get dehydrated, and you need calories, beloved. But we can put that off a bit.”

“If there's one thing I don't need, it's calories,” Aziraphale said sadly.

“No, love. You worked very hard today. Your body needs fat and calories and food, so that amazing brain can keep working, and you can walk and bike and make miracles repairing books,” Crowley said, her voice tender and so gentle. How was she always so _gentle_? “You deserve to eat, and to enjoy your food. My strong, brave lass has been through a lot in her life, and she deserves to keep going.”

Aziraphale smiled, just for a moment. “I love you.”

“I love _you,_ angel.” Crowley touched her hair with her free hand, just for a moment. “Poor lass. It's been awhile since one of those.”

Aziraphale smiled again. “Mmm. I'm sorry. I know it's not nice for you.”

“Hush. You didn't do anything wrong. If anyone's to blame, it's Gabrielle.” Crowley squeezed her hand. “Hit a nerve, huh?”

Aziraphale groaned. “Apparently. God. Can you tell her I'm blocking her and then do so please? I don't think I can look at a screen.”

“Are you sure? I mean, yes, but don't you want to do it?” Crowley couldn't hide the glee in her voice.

Aziraphale laughed. “Honestly, no. I don't want to speak to her again. Tell her whatever you like. You've earned it, really.”

“You give me the _nicest_ presents,” Crowley said. “I mean it, this is better than the boudoir shots, Aziraphale.” She let go of Aziraphale's hand with a squeeze so gentle it wouldn't have disturbed a sleeping kitten, and retrieved her phone from the floor, grinning as she typed for definitely longer than necessary, hit send, then immediately narrated the process of blocking Gabrielle's number.

Aziraphale's smile was coming a little more strongly now. “What did you tell her?”

Crowley cleared her throat. “Uh. I'll just...read it to you. I think I lost it a bit.” She swiped back a few screens, and actually  _ blushed _ . This was going to be something.

“'Hi, this is Crowley. Fuck off. You lost, I won. I have the best girlfriend a person could ever ask for. I get to have Aziraphale's brilliance, her kindness, her resilience in my life. Did you even know she was hurt badly not long ago, and now you'd never know it to look at her? I think she's beautiful, inside and out, and I value her. And I don't fucking hit her, you abusive fuckhead. I love her, I treasure her, I adore her. I WIN. Also, you're blocked now, ta!'”

Aziraphale couldn't help it, she reached out from under the blanket and laced her fingers with Crowley's, smiling. “When I have the energy for a hug, you're getting  _ such _ a hug.”

Crowley laughed. “May I kiss your temple?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Not just yet, please. I'll tell you when, I promise.”

“Of course. Not until you're sure you're comfortable,” Crowley reminded her. She lay down so they could keep holding hands, and face one another without touching. “I _love_ you. I'm proud of you. You're safe.”

Aziraphale smiled, and let her eyes slip shut. “I'm proud of you too. You're incredible. Can we be quiet now?”

Crowley just squeezed her hand, and Aziraphale lay there, warm and in her body, listening to birdsong until she felt like she could do something else.

It was much later that Aziraphale wandered out to Crowley's garden, water glass in one hand and journal in the other. She didn't necessarily feel like writing, but it helped, to get the events of the day down. She'd had...a  _ lot _ of emotions, from pride at the long bike ride, to desire for Crowley, to...everything...after Gabrielle had texted her. It would be quite a therapy session that week, she conceded, trying to remember the good as well as the bad and get it all down. 

Crowley had put in the sweetest little bench, practically hidden among climbing roses and lavender and the little gravel path. In her loose white-blonde curls and long white dress with the lace ruffles, Aziraphale felt pretty as she wrote in the light of the long, late evening.

That had been a rebellion too. She had purposely dressed in a very pretty bra and knickers set, and put on a lovely dress over that. Sex was not going to happen that night; she just...wasn't feeling it, and even Crowley admitted that she wasn't in much of a mood. But she was still allowed to dress sexy for  _ herself _ . The dress had off-the-shoulder sleeves and showed off her cleavage, the smocked waist gave her a lovely hourglass figure, and the flowing skirt was wonderfully romantic, sweeping the ground even with her long legs.

She wrote until they were well into a quiet, perfect summer evening, and looked up when she heard footsteps. “Crowley, love, come and join me.”

Crowley smiled, looking pretty romantic and sparkling herself in short shorts and a sleeveless top that didn't really cover the lacy bralette Aziraphale had given her last Christmas. (Fair enough; the dress had been a gift from Crowley that same Christmas.)

“I made us mint tea,” she said, and handed Aziraphale's mug over, leaning in to kiss her. “How's your tummy?”

“In need of mint tea,” Aziraphale said ruefully. “Thank you, you're a gem.”

“I'll rub it later if you're still a little mucky,” Crowley promised, settling on the other side of the bench, her legs doing their impossible things so she could get comfortable. “You doing okay?”

“I'm doing okay,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “Journaling. Getting my thoughts in order. That was a trigger I didn't even know I had. I mean, of course I have body issues, I'm a fat woman in a Western country, but...”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. I've never seen you react quite like that, either – any triggers you have, uh, manifest differently? I think?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Mmm. May I ask you something about what she wrote, though? Please? It's not urgent if you don't want to talk about it just now.”

“Azi, I'm fine,” Crowley said, sounding surprised. “I got to tell her where to get off. Ask away.”

“No, I'm serious,” she said, reaching over and squeezing Crowley's hand. “You had to watch me have a major panic attack. That's _not_ a nice thing. We need to take care of you too. I insist upon it.”

Crowley smiled and kissed the back of Aziraphale's hand. “It's not a nice thing, you're right. But I feel all right. If I don't, we can stop.”

“Fair,” Aziraphale said. “I just...I wrote a lot about what she said about me being a fetish,” she said quietly. “It's hard. I _know_ you love me, I can't not know it. But you, uh. Really love that I'm fat. And not to be indelicate, but I've seen your porn, dear. We all love a Hilda pin-up or seven, but you _do_ seem to have...preferences.”

Crowley laughed softly. “A Hilda pin-up or seventy-five, you mean. And you're right, I do. I think fat women are absolutely beautiful, and that's reflected in my porn collection. And your body excites me like very few of my other lovers. Hm. Let me think a moment, darling?”

“Think lots of moments, if you like,” Aziraphale said. “It's a beautiful evening.”

“It is,” Crowley said absently, kissing her hand again and settling down, mind obviously working away.

The sun was kissing the horizon when she finally spoke again. “So, I think it's important to differentiate between a fetish, and love and affection. It's not something I really put a name to, but I think you're right. I  _ do _ like fat girls, a lot. I think you're all God's most perfect creations. But I also  _ love you _ , the way I don't love Hilda, or the models in my, uh, collection. I love you and I love your body  _ no matter what _ . If you gained or lost weight, that wouldn't alter my love for you any. Your body  _ is _ changing; so is mine, with age and...unfortunate incidents and such.”

Aziraphale hid a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, we're both disaster lesbians.” Crowley smiled at her. “In the most technical sense, she's right. I'm, um, pre-programmed to be really sexually attracted to your body. But that's not what I fell in love with – I mean, not the whole of it. I would be delighted to fetishize your breasts until the day I die, but I love the whole of you so completely, the fetish-y bits are just...extras.” She frowned. “No, that sounds dismissive. I'm sorry, you know I'm bad with words. Is this helping?”

“Enormously,” Aziraphale said. “I think that's why it touched a nerve. I _am_ fulfilling your fetish for fat birds, and for the record I'm perfectly happy to do so, even in that latex bra that makes me sweat if I look at it. But what she missed is that there's more to it than that. That we have a...a fuller relationship. A simpatico of minds and hearts, of goals and opinions and past-times.” She smiled. “ _And_ you love to motorboat me.”

“Do I ever,” Crowley said happily, and laughed. “Just like you like reducing me to jelly with your toys. We're good together, aren't we, Azi?”

“The very best.” Aziraphale smiled and set her journal aside, shifting on the bench so she could get her arms around Crowley, and vice-versa. “I like that, by the way. You calling me Azi.”

“Good. I think it's nearly as cute as you are.” Crowley kissed her cheek. “I love you. Are you all right to spend the night? I can walk you home if you want, of course.”

“I'd like to spend the night very much, actually.” Aziraphale snuggled close. “Can you rub my tum, please? The tea helped some, but it still hurts.”

Oh, it felt so good to feel Crowley's warm hand on her belly, the gentle massage. “I'll brew us up some more to take to bed. Can we look at Hilda pictures together?”

Aziraphale giggled. “I'd like that, too. Thank you. You've been the best partner I can imagine today. I appreciate you very much, Crowley, and I'm so glad we're together.”

Crowley smiled. “Even when I give you a picnic that leaves you in plaster all summer?”

Aziraphale giggled harder. “That wasn't your fault! And technically that was _after_ the picnic, anyway. And you were in plaster too!”

Crowley laughed and kissed her cheek, rubbing her belly in even, soft strokes, obviously enjoying getting to touch her and soothe her in this way. They stayed like that as the sun set, and held hands as they went into the house together, ready for a soft, gentle evening in bed. Aziraphale wondered briefly what Gabrielle was doing in the end, and then dismissed it as unworthy of her time. Whatever she was up to, there was no way she was as happy as the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
